There's a feeling when you pick up a book by an author you admire that can only be described as relishing a safe pair of hands. I get that with Iain Banks. I know I'm in for a good read. His style is warm and soothing on my brain.
How bad could this be? At first she'd thought he was exaggerating when he'd fallen like a sack of potatoes and curled up like a hedgehog. Now she thought he probably really was in intense pain.
Scrabbles gave a cough and flexed one hind leg again, backing towards the two
Published on May 19, 2009 10:03